


offer me that deathless death

by bowtiesnrocksalt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Help, I don't know, M/M, So I ship it, don't hurt me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtiesnrocksalt/pseuds/bowtiesnrocksalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Sam Winchester is a nerd who hates the summertime, and Crowley is a loner who wants his cat back. Also, Crowley's a demon and Sam doesn't have a problem that. Sam's brothers and friends, however, do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. demons and their cats

**Author's Note:**

> first fic  
> don't hurt me  
> i dunno
> 
> songs;
> 
> take me to church - hozier  
> toxic - singularity remix

Sam didn't like the summer for multiple reasons: the unbearable heat, the sticky ice cream, the obnoxious children in the street, and the list could go on and on. It was the only season that he absolutely couldn't stand, and to make matters worse he had to go outside. Against his will.  
Of course.  
His father had always been proud of his three sons and constantly declared his gratefulness to God at dinnertime but Sam was sort of the oddball out. He never wanted to go outside; instead arguing that being inside was both safer and healthier. Hell, not even Adam wanted to stay inside as much as he did. And whenever he got into arguments with their father about it Sam could see Dean snickering in the corner while exiting through the screen door. He loved Dean, but sometimes he didn't really like him.  
He really didn't like him then.  
Sam could see him from the porch where he was sitting and it repulsed him. Dean’s leaned up against a pink Cadillac belonging to a couple of snobbish-looking girls with bright lipstick, and he was obviously flirting with them based off of their high-pitched giggles and squeals. Sam snorted lightly under his breath, cutting his eyes before going back to the book laid comfortably in his lap. He’s always found relaxation in books, their yellowing pages and sharp black ink like some sort of therapy- therapy that he seriously could use at the moment.  
Then he hears tires squeal and decided it wouldn't be so bad.  
“You know you’re worse than Adam, digging your nose into all of those books all the time.” Dean’s voice was low and amused and caused Sam to dig his teeth together before he looked up at his older brother. The green-eyed Winchester was grinning lazily, arms stuffed in his denim pockets as he chewed obnoxiously loud on a wad of gum. Sam shuddered mentally.  
“Does it matter?” His voice was sharp and aimed to drive his brother away, but instead Dean just snorted with light amusement and plopped himself down beside Sam. Sam sighed under his breath, biting his tongue the slightest bit to keep anything profane from tumbling out of his mouth as he waited for one of Dean’s infamous comebacks.  
“Never said it was.” Dean replied evenly and calmly looked over at the youngest Winchester with a hint of fondness in his eyes. Sam huffed out a breath of air and looked everywhere but at his brother before he finally met his gaze. The deeply-buried affection he found there lightened Sam’s mood a bit, but anger still simmered low in his belly.  
“Yeah, I know that. Now why don’t you go somewhere else? I’m busy reading. You know, that thing where you look at words and it makes a story? You should try it sometime.” Sam’s tone was disparaging as always but Dean only belted out a hardy laugh, smile spread wide across his lips before he blew a half-hearted bubble with his gum. Right after the burst a car pulled up in their driveway and Sam immediately knew that it was for Dean.  
“Dean! C’mon brotha, or we’re gonna be late!” The voice was overwhelmingly low with a drawl thicker than honey. It was Benny of course, who had been best friends with Dean ever since they moved there ten years ago.  
“Comin’!” Dean’s reply was quick, and he ruffled Sam’s hair a bit before he murmured a quick goodbye. Sam watched as Dean and Benny pulled away, slight distaste evident on his face as their hollers and yells echoed through the neighborhood. It was a party. Dean only yelled like that when there’s a party.  
Sam sighed before he book-marked his page and dusted off his jeans. He slowly made his way to the door, hand outstretched before something –someone- grabbed his other arm. Immediately Sam whipped around, prepared to face anyone or anything, before he realized that the person latching onto his arm wasn't there to fight.  
It was someone his age, maybe older. He was definitely shorter than Sam with brown-colored hair and strange, brownish, bluish eyes. Sam’s brows furrowed when he looked over the stranger’s outfit- all black, excluding the blood-red tie around his neck.  
“I believe you have my cat.” And that’s the first thing the stranger says to him.


	2. moose and his paintings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief discussion of names and the whereabouts of Azazel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh 
> 
> I just don't know
> 
> don't hate pls
> 
> songs for this chapter (probably this whole fic. i don't know)
> 
> arsonist's lullaby - hozier

Sam was quiet for a moment, staring blankly at the stranger before him. He didn't know why he wasn't frowning or scowling or doing something that he’d usually do in the presence of strangers. He’s just… staring. Staring. Something he knew good and well that he’s not-  
“Listen, darling, I’m truly sorry to interrupt your staring but I need to find Azazel. Daylight’s wasting.” The man’s voice interrupts his thoughts, causing Sam to startle a bit before processing his words fully. The accent he had was British, and his voice was lower than Sam’s. He could probably listen to the stranger recite a phone book if he’d offer to.   
“Your… cat?” Sam asks, pulling himself from his trance-like state before sighing lightly. His hazel eyes search over the yard for a while until something clicks in his head and his eyes return to the stranger. “Is it black? With sort of orange-ish eyes?”   
“I believe you mean to say ‘amber.’” The stranger says, but Sam takes it as a yes and begins to head off of the porch.   
“Amber? I thought they looked like a sort of sunset color.” Sam replies, glancing over his shoulder at the man as he rounds the corner of the house.   
“Sunset! That’s quite endearing, Moose, but I've lived with that cat since I was a mere lad. I think I’d know the color of his eyes.” He scoffs, and Sam can almost hear him roll his eyes. The Winchester pauses a moment, though, stopping in his tracks before looking back at the stranger with curiosity.   
“Moose?” He asks, arching a brow.   
“Moose.”  
“And what about you?” Sam inquires, placing his hands on his hips with a small smirk on his face. Immediately the stranger looks uncomfortable, shifting in his spot while refusing to look into Sam’s eyes.   
“I’d rather not say.”  
“That’s not fair.”  
“Life’s not fair, Moose.” He counters, finally looking back at the youngest Winchester with a slight raise of his brows. The two are quiet for a moment, Sam then deciding on pulling his ‘puppy-dog’ eyes on him. Everything stilled. “You know what? Fine. I’m Crowley, if you must know. Now let’s hurry up. It’s almost six and I've got to be back soon even though I’d love to stay basking in your glorious presence.”   
“Crowley, hm?” Sam asks, a triumphant grin on his face as he turns to lead Crowley towards the backyard.   
“Yes, yes, Moose. And don’t wear it out.” He mutters his reply as Sam swings open the gate, leading him towards the shed. Sam stops in front of it, now crossing his arms over his chest as he examined the red shingles covering the roof. “Were you… keeping my cat?” Crowley asks, coming to stand beside Sam with slight disbelief on his face. Sam frowns.  
“Well I didn’t want it out there alone. There’s… stuff.”  
“Stuff?”  
“Yeah. Stuff.”  
“And what kind of ‘stuff’, Moose? Wild animals? Some of your kind?” Crowley asks, amusement light on his tone as the younger Winchester rolls his eyes and opens the door to the shed. The inside was all-too familiar.   
It was about the size of his room, the floors made of cement and the walls a pale blue, though the color was barely visible behind the dozens of canvases attached to the walls. Each painting depicted something different, ranging from classic cars to nature scenery. Half-melted candles were scattered around the place along with paint-stained towels. On the counter in the corner was a bucket full of different shapes and sizes of brushes, and an easel stood proudly near the far left corner. Not a lot of people were allowed in the shed, Dean being one of them. There were only a few exceptions, like Crowley or Mary Winchester.   
As well as Azazel.   
The black cat rubbed its side against Sam’s shins, purring loudly enough for the two men to hear. Sam chuckled lightly, reaching down to pick up the amber-eyed feline with a small smile. He had grown used to Azazel being in the shed, and whenever Sam would walk in Azazel would be there to greet him. The two had grown close since their first meeting, and Sam was saddened by the thought of giving back to his real owner.   
“Moose… did you paint these?” Crowley’s voice was strange and lower than usual, and when Sam turned around he saw something on the man’s cheek. Something like-  
. . . 

“Are you crying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not like Crowley to cry, but hey, this is called fanfiction for a reason. Also I'm having a really hard time with past-tense and present-tense. 
> 
> Whatever, though
> 
> I'm young
> 
> I make mistakes
> 
> Huzzah for pumpkin bread


	3. moose gets hurt and demons panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has allergies and apparently doesn't want to see Sam ever again. Like, ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short chapter is short. 
> 
> But hey
> 
> at least it's a chapter, yeah?
> 
> Yeah.

“No, Moose…” Crowley’s reply was broken slightly and Sam watched as Crowley turned away and lifted his arms and wiped at his cheeks. The younger Winchester carefully inched forward, going to stand by Crowley with Azazel in his arms. For a while the two men stood there, carefully observing the paintings on the wall. From outside the he heard the song of the birds die down, falling into the sound of rustling leaves in the night wind. 

“I think you were.” His tone was light in the air and he met Crowley’s glare with a calm, even gaze. 

“Please, Moose. Don’t flatter yourself. I just have allergies.” Crowley explained, but Sam didn't believe it. He rolled his eyes before beginning to hand over Azazel and almost dropped him when he clawed at the spot where his thumb met his wrist. Sam hissed in pain and let go of Azazel. He nursed the injured hand before he lifted it to his mouth to ease the stinging pain. He kept it there for a moment, brows furrowed in concentration before observing the wound, satisfied once the blood stopped welling to the surface.   
“Damn claws. Anyway, sorry about-“ Sam began, but was caught off-guard by the wide-eyed staring of Crowley. He didn't even try to be discreet about it. He just.. stared. In his odd-colored eyes Sam could see confusion, restraint… and was that… lu-

“I have to go now. Goodbye, Sam.” Crowley’s words tumbled from his lips quicker than Sam could react and the man was already out the door before Sam realized what had happened. Immediately the Winchester followed after Crowley, concern heavy in his eyes as they both neared the gate.   
“Crowley!” Sam snapped, though not of anger. Just confusion. His confusion only deepened when Crowley didn't stop to listen and before the man could open the tall wooden gate Sam held it shut with his hand. He put both of his hands on either side of Crowley, making sure that the other man couldn't escape. 

“Sam, just let me-“

“No! Crowley what happened? Was it the cut? You’re scared of blood?” Sam asked, watching as the other man squirmed slightly when he glanced over at the wound on Sam’s wrist.

“No, Moose. It’s not that, but I just… I just..” Sam watched as Crowley struggled for words, noticing the desperate look in his eyes as he glanced from the wound on his hand to his face. 

“You just… what?”

“I just…” Crowley began, but trailed off. Sam raised his brows expectantly and waited for Crowley’s reply, but the man simply stared. He looked deep into Sam’s hazel eyes as if he were searching for something; looking for some sort of explanation. His expression was almost pained and when Sam’s hand slid down the gate a few inches Crowley closed his eyes for a moment. The Winchester simply watched, waiting. When the other man finally opened his eyes he wasn't ready for the fire that lay there. Before Sam could react Crowley dropped Azazel and pressed up close to Sam with his face only a few inches away from the Winchester’s. Sam’s heart began to beat rapidly and Crowley’s expression faltered for a moment, his eyes finding the spot where Sam’s heart was, before he looked back up at him with a deep, piercing glare. 

“I don’t ever want to see you again. Ever.” And with those words Crowley disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know. 
> 
> SHOORRTT CHAPTER GOD UGH
> 
> Tension, I guess. 
> 
> Huzzah for pumpkin bread and bye, felicia.


	4. that cliche family dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh god it's been FOREVER since I've updated this. Sorry to anyone who was waiting. And sorry my writing sucks :(

Later that night Sam sat down for dinner, the smell of cooking food permeating the air as he took his seat beside Dean- Mary and John at opposite ends of the table. A few conversations about summer plans and political things of the sort passed over the table between bites, Sam rarely contributing, though, his mind far too busy to concentrate on his family’s concerns. Instead his thoughts revolved around Crowley and his sudden bitterness- the way he had reacted to the simple cut on his wrist that now was cleaned and bandaged. Did he have a phobia of blood? Was he scared of it? Sam knew a kid from his math class, Kevin, who had something like that- always cringing away when someone even got the simplest of paper cuts. But Crowley didn’t look scared, exactly, maybe he was-

“Sam!” The brunette jumped in his seat, immediately straightening as his gaze flickered over to Mary who was looking over to him expectantly. “Sam, honey, I was asking about your day. You okay?” She asked, concern alight in her gaze as she took a sip of her sweet tea. Sam cleared his throat, nodding quickly as fiddled with his fork. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. And, um, I guess my day was okay. I met someone new. You know that cat I was keeping? Well his owner came over today.” Sam said, glancing around the table and finding the interested stare of his father who raised his brows as he took a swig of his beer. 

“Really? Who was it?” John asked, setting the amber-colored bottle down, elbows propped up lazily upon the faded cream-colored table cover. 

“Oh, his name’s, uh, Crowley. Yeah, Crowley. Didn’t catch his last name, though.” Sam replied, shrugging lightly as he took a bite of green beans, but his focus was quickly broken as a tense silence passed over the table. Suddenly everyone’s gaze was on him, burning holes into his skin as he slowly looked around, obviously confused. “W-What? You know him?”

“Um, Listen, Sam. I’m sorry but you can’t… you can’t be around that man anymore. You understand me?” John suddenly spoke up, voice gruff as Mary suddenly fixated her gaze on him. “It’s just he’s not what you think he is and-”

“John! We had an agreement. You know he’s gonna ask questions-”

“Wait, wait, what? Are you guys hiding something from me or something?” Sam cut in, a bit of amused bitterness to his tone as Mary sighed, silverware clattering as she began to stand and collect up the plates.

“It’s nothing, Sam, nothing. Just listen to your father.” She directed, voice low through clenched teeth as Sam furrowed his brows. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, though, you-”

“Sammy! Just listen, okay?” Dean suddenly made his voice known, the younger glancing over to him with confusion, though the gleam in Dean’s jade-colored eyes assured Sam. Often times they’d share those type of glances, an unspoken promise or answer always exchanged when none would come out of the conversation. 

“O-Okay, yeah. Thanks for dinner, mom. I’m gonna go and, um, read, now.” With a small, forced smile Dean and Sam stood, each of the boys pressing a small kiss to Mary’s cheek and a nod to John before rushing up the stairs. Without hesitance Sam marched into Dean’s room, mind already whirring with questions as his brother followed soon after, closing and locking the door before motioning for him to sit down. Sam did as directed, slumping down onto Dean’s messy bed as his brother sighed in defeat, running a hand through his short hair. 

“Well, here goes nothing, I guess.”


End file.
